


Forever Blackbird

by blythechild



Series: Gift Fics 2015 [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, Denial of Feelings, Dinner, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gift Fic, Gift Giving, Jealousy, Possibly Unrequited Love, Regret, Revelations, Romantic Friendship, Secret Crush, Self-Esteem Issues, Surprises, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5496338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blythechild/pseuds/blythechild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid gets Prentiss as his Secret Santa assignment and it threatens to reveal his real life secret to her.</p><p> </p><p>This is a work of fanfiction and as such I do not claim ownership over the characters herein. It was created as a personal amusement. This story is suitable for readers 14 and up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Blackbird

**Author's Note:**

> This is a holiday gift fic for dionne_2k who left the following prompt: _one of them gets the other for Secret Santa and gets this really expensive but sentimental gift that the other has always wanted, hoping they’ll never find out it’s from them._ Merry Christmas, dear ;)

They sat around the bullpen laughing and drinking the store-bought eggnog that Rossi had unsubtly spiked with the scotch he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk. Reid had only had a cup and a half but could already feel it impairing his judgment. Everyone was in a good mood. They’d leave for their holiday break after this party and they were all buzzing with the excitement of family plans and travel and surprises. Reid just felt sick to his stomach, but fortunately, no one was paying attention to him. He fixed the expected grin to his face and did not look at the present under the unit’s makeshift Christmas tree in the striped paper. If there were any way he could race over there unseen and sneak it back into his jacket pocket, he would. What had he been thinking?

This whole Secret Santa tradition was something that the team did purely for Garcia’s benefit. She got so excited around the holidays, and since the team had become her family, they couldn’t deny her enthusiasm. It’s not as if any of them had a lot of extra time to go Christmas shopping, but Garcia insisted that ‘the little things’ were just as important as grand, sweeping gestures. So, they did the secret gift exchange, the toxic eggnog, the mistletoe gauntlet, Christmas crackers and crappy paper hats… the whole nine yards, for her. And yes, they’d learned to enjoy it over the years - even Reid, for whom Christmas had next to no meaning. He was happy to give and receive a silly gift each year and never thought twice about it.

But this year, his Secret Santa assignment was Prentiss and his brain had short circuited over it knowing that he already had the ideal gift for her. It had been living in a box in the bottom drawer of his desk at home for nearly seven years. Somewhere in the last three weeks he’d found the balls to wrap it up, and then the gumption to actually follow through on giving it, but right now all he wanted to do was see it spontaneously burst into flames under the tree. Or maybe to be struck dead by lightning. All he could think was that _she’ll know_ \- it didn’t matter if the gift was anonymous - somehow, she’d figure it out. He took another swig of eggnog and nearly choked.

“Time for gifts!” Garcia squealed and then dove at the sad, Charlie Brown tree on an unused desk.

Garcia distributed the colourful parcels and everyone waited until they’d received theirs. Then it was a free-for-all; no one stood on ceremony while opening them because they were all profilers and it was best _not_ to analyze everyone’s faces when unwrapping a secret gift. Chuckles and sarcastic eyerolls followed: Hotch got a slightly unsuitable tie pin, Rossi received a bright, possibly handmade sweater (which he immediately put on), someone got J.J. Redskins tickets, and Morgan unwrapped a Bluetooth speaker for his office. Reid himself received a resin model of Groot in a plant pot, which he liked very much, and it meant that he could permanently eighty-six the parade of half-dead plants people kept leaving on his desk. He suspected J.J., and gave her a smile. Prentiss was the only one not participating in the festive mix. Reid tried not to look but eventually his eyes moved to her as she just stared blankly at the striped paper unfolded across her lap.

“What did you get?” J.J. leaned in closer realizing that Prentiss was too quiet.

Prentiss looked up quickly, peering at each of them, eyes wide. “Which one of you did this?”

“What is it?” Morgan walked forward looking concerned.

Reid felt the blood drain from his face. What had he done? What if she figured it out and hated him for it forever?

“Em?” Garcia rushed up just as Prentiss lifted the gift from the wrapping for all to see.

The pendant was small, old, burnished with age: a bird in flight, trapped in yellow gold, with curves to the wings and head that spoke to an aesthetic age long since past. It dangled from a long, thin chain that from a distance almost looked invisible.

“Whoa,” Garcia huffed. “Someone went over the spending limit this year…”

“Wait, I’ve seen that before…” Morgan paused and then snapped his fingers. “I thought you lost it…”

“I did.” Prentiss seemed hypnotized by the swaying, golden bird. “At Cyrus’s compound. I never knew if it came loose when he beat me, or during the escape. All I know is that I was wearing it at the start of that case and it was gone by the end of it. I had the crime scene guys comb every inch of that place for it…”

“That’s amazing,” J.J. said in awe, reaching out to cup it and get a closer look.

“It’s not the same one.” Reid spoke up and couldn’t believe he’d done it until the words were out of his mouth. Then, his brain provided him with the perfect excuse for his observation and he launched into it before anyone thought it was suspicious. “I remember it. You said it was a repurposed charm from a baby bracelet your grandmother had, right? The charm was plain. This one… there’s more. Look at the wings…”

Prentiss looked at him, mouth open slightly as if trying to remember when she’d told him all of that. Then she peered at the pendant closely.

“Ohhh, he’s right… look,” Garcia enthused as she craned to get a better look. “There are small diamond chips at the tip of each wing…”

Prentiss twisted the chain so that the pendant swung around. “And there’s an ‘E’ engraved on the back,” she mumbled.

“Well,” Rossi looked impressed as he scratched at his colourful sweater. “ _That_ took some thought…”

“Seriously, guys,” Prentiss looked over their faces again, pleading. “Who gave me this? I need to know.”

Everyone looked around, waiting for the giver to step forward. When no one did, the profiler stares came out. Reid slid behind a mask of quiet judgment like the rest. He felt gazes fall to him and then slide away, much to his relief; no one expected anything like that of him. By the general flicking of eyes and eyebrows, Reid thought that the consensus was torn between Hotch and Rossi: Hotch because he was considerate enough, and Rossi because of his money. Prentiss’s eyes moved from one face to another with increasing speed sifting for a clue. She still hadn’t smiled at all since opening the gift. A delicate feeling deep inside Reid deflated as he realized that. Perhaps the gift was too loaded with memories to be welcome anymore. Maybe she’d just put it in a box at home and try not to think about it again.

“Really?” she breathed, giving them all a genuinely distressed look. “No one’s gonna admit to it?”

Hotch stepped forward and you could almost feel the communal gasp. Reid had a white hot flash of hatred and disbelief that almost made him speak up daring Hotch to prove his claim.

“Maybe the giver will come forward privately, Prentiss,” Hotch intoned quietly. The crowd settled and Reid tried to gulp back his irrational, misplaced jealousy. It felt like trying to scoop up lava with a teaspoon. “This was a thoughtful gift - perhaps too thoughtful to be placed in the spotlight.”

Prentiss’s gaze closed off as if chastened and everyone got weird and silent for a moment. Then Garcia came to the rescue.

“Well, c’mon… let’s put it on, pretty lady…”

Garcia swooped the pendant from Prentiss’s hands and worked the clasp while J.J. gently lifted her hair from her neck. The girls did their thing and the tiny bird settled evenly just below Prentiss’s collarbones, as Reid had imagined it would so many times. Prentiss’s hand came up and pressed the charm into her chest, as if to confirm it was really there, and then she finally smiled. The smile was like a homecoming and she lit up under it so suddenly that it set off fireworks in Reid’s chest. He attempted to breathe through it but it was hard as he watched the delight he wanted for her blossom before his eyes, and he tried to look only mildly interested in it. At least she didn’t suspect him - it was obvious in the way she was sending furtive glances at both Hotch and Rossi. The pain he felt at that success was sharper than he thought it would be, but it was for the best. He’d finally brought her the joy he’d intended when he arranged for the pendant to be made years ago, and he’d kept their friendship in tact as well. In the grand scheme of things, it was a win-win. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to find out that he’d been in love with her for what seemed like a thousand years. That level of honesty would just hurt them both immeasurably.

Garcia broke out her homemade baked goods and more eggnog was had. By the time the sky darkened for the day, everyone was glowing with good cheer and too much scotch. People began to drift away, leaving with heartfelt hugs and wishes for a good holiday. Gifts were bestowed for Jack and Henry, and then the family broke apart to float back to their individual families. Those of them who had them at least: Reid would be alone again until the break was over. Hotch had extended an offer for Christmas dinner with him and Jack but Reid politely declined. It probably would’ve been awkward anyway. He was well aware of what he was like.

J.J. and Garcia caught him at the elevators and tag teamed kissing him as only they and a certain amount of scotch could manage. He gave them his ‘icky girls’ look as they giggled and left him there trying to wipe two shades of lipstick off either cheek. And then Prentiss sauntered up with her coat and bag, laughing as he blushed.

“They got you good, didn’t they?” She smiled and pulled a tissue from her bag. “C’mere, you’re just making it worse…”

She pulled in close and wiped gently as he stared like a deer in the headlights. She didn’t appear to notice, a small smile curling the corner of her mouth as she worked.

“They love doing that,” he muttered.

“They love _you_ , Reid. There’s a difference.” She pocketed the tissue and surveyed her work, nodding just as the elevator arrived.

Yes, he understood that difference all too well. They boarded the elevator and he watched as she leaned back against the cab railing with a sigh of contentment. Her coat fell open and revealed the pendant resting at her throat. The wingtips sparkled with the stones he’d chosen - not enough to be showy, just enough to catch the light once and a while like she did. He felt warm thinking about the ‘E’ he’d had engraved resting against her skin. Her eyes flicked to him and she gave him a quick smile.

“It’s pretty,” he nodded to the necklace. “It seemed like maybe you were upset by it when you first opened it.”

“It was shock mostly. The original was an heirloom and I’d become adjusted to its loss… it happened so long ago. Considering how I reacted, I think it’s unlikely I’ll ever find out who gave it to me.”

“Is that really so important?”

“I dunno. Maybe. I just wanted to thank them. I’m not terribly sentimental but this means a lot to me. It reminds me of where I come from, who I am. I wanted to get that out there, I guess.” Her hand went to the pendant and pressed it into her chest again.

Reid smiled. He felt ten feet tall. “I don’t think that was lost on anyone here today. The words are probably unnecessary.” 

“Yeah, I suppose so,” she chuckled and her cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t until you pointed out the differences that I realized it wasn’t the same one.”

“That’s understandable. Someone went to great pains to make it look authentic. Right down to sourcing gold from the same era as the original.”

Prentiss’s eyes narrowed and then she stood up straight. Reid’s mouth went dry.

“I mean, that’s obvious given the aged look and the color of the alloy. Old gold has different purity levels to modern counterparts, and the alloy combinations differ…”

God, she was really staring at him now. He had to make this look like one of his typical info dumps.

“You could make a newly sourced specimen look aged but that depends on the skill of the jeweller and what would be the point when the market is flooded with second hand jewellery? It’s interesting how the nature of personal investment has changed… we used to invest in tangible things that we could carry with us, like jewels. Now we invest in concepts and funds and things that we’ll nev-”

“You had it made, didn’t you?” she said quietly as the cab arrived at the lobby and the doors opened with a small ding.

He was too stunned to say anything at first, his knees threatening to betray him in an embarrassing way. Then he cleared his throat and forced a smile, shrugging and walking away from her out of the elevator.

“C’mon, Prentiss. You don’t believe that.”

He felt her hand land on his shoulder and grip tightly, swinging him back to face her.

“Reid, don’t lie to me. Did you give me this necklace?”

She was giving him that earnest, pleading look that she’d used on the team earlier, but now he was its sole focus and he felt himself crumbling under it. His stomach roiled; he’d thought he’d gotten away with it, he thought everything would be just fine and they’d go back to the way things were before. He should’ve known better - she was too insightful not to figure it out. He’d gone and ruined everything simply because he couldn’t keep his heart to himself any longer. His lips tightened and he said nothing. Apparently, that was answer enough.

“Why didn’t you step forward? Why didn’t you say anything?” Her face creased in confusion.

“Because I didn’t want you to know it was me. Obviously.”

“Why not?” 

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily, feeling his whole frame droop with the effort of keeping up his charade. He didn’t want her to know because he didn’t want her to feel guilty or obligated in some way. He didn’t want her to see how she sustained him, how his appetite was only eased in her presence. He didn’t want her to know that he’d foolishly fallen for her and had remained in that state _for years_ beyond all hope and reason. He didn’t want her to catch even a glimpse of any of it for fear of losing what he could rightfully lay claim to: friendship. He didn’t want her to think about the money he spent, or the time he took designing it, or the knowledge he had of her that he understood how meaningful it would be, or how long it had lived in his desk drawer while he tried to deny its existence. He just wanted to be the man she’d always seen and hide the rest of it away because he was way too self-aware to think he had a realistic shot at anything else.

He opened his eyes and the astounded look on her face told him that his soliloquy had been out loud instead of inside his head. Damn Rossi and his festive scotch additives. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Please… try and forget this. All of it.”

“Reid, I don’t-”

“Emily, I’m begging you,” he interrupted. “Spare me this embarrassment. My ego isn’t so strong that I can handle seeing your pity. Take the necklace off, put it in a drawer, forget where you got it. Hotch was right: I didn’t want the spotlight. I just want to be your friend - I can do _that_ very well. I’ve proven that, haven’t I?”

His throat closed up and he had to stop. Sadness was already creeping into her expression and he just wanted her to _stop_. Stop feeling for him, stop considering everything he’d done over the years, stop thinking that he was suddenly new to her, just stop, stopstopstop…

He gave it one last shot. “You can compartmentalize this. Please…”

Prentiss pulled her hand away and took a step back. Her face became unreadable and he wondered if she was doing what he asked or if she was saying goodbye to their friendship. She blinked and then nodded her agreement but she didn’t say a thing. After another long moment of silence he whispered ‘thank you’ and then fled to the parking lot like the coward he was. He didn’t dare look back instead hoping that the holiday break would be time enough for her to erase all traces of this event from her mind. He rushed headlong into the darkness, brushing the wetness from his face. It must have been snowing and he hadn’t noticed…

\----

It was Christmas Day and he was listening to Handel’s Messiah, drinking hot chocolate and brandy from his favorite reading chair with his feet propped on the sill of his bay window watching the snow fall over D.C. This was his habit and he usually found it soothing, but today it was just taking the edge off his disappointed mood. He’d humiliated himself with Prentiss and it raised the ghost of all of his prepubescent romantic failures as well. He’d thought he had evolved, left that unrelenting awkwardness behind him, but it seemed as though he was still that inept. Like Peggy Marlowe told him in the twelfth grade: he was just creepy. Now he was creepy on a larger scale. Even Christmas phone calls with his Mom, and then with Hotch and Jack, hadn’t done much to distract him. He was praying that he could shore up his self-esteem before going back to work in the New Year - seriously, he had to figure out a way to make that happen - in the meantime, the brandy would do the trick.

There was a knock at his front door and he jumped. His building had cleared out for the holidays and he’d been watching the street for hours and hadn’t noticed anyone heading in his direction. He wondered if Garcia had descended again with a delivery of shortbread. She was constantly trying to fatten him up…

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s me, Reid,” Prentiss’s muffled voice answered.

He was on his feet too quickly and then standing at his door looking at her through the peephole. She was staring back looking completely normal and carrying something in a covered chafing dish.

“C’mon, Reid,” she huffed. “Let me in. This won’t keep.”

He opened the door and she breezed past him into his apartment as if this were all planned. He just stared gape-mouthed at her and tried to think of something normal to say. She headed straight for his kitchen and then put down the chafing dish with a thud and a sigh of relief.

“Holy crap, that was heavier than I thought…”

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked still standing by his open front door.

“I brought you dinner. Turkey.” She pointed at the dish and smiled. Then she swung her coat off and draped it over the back of his reading chair. He saw the pendant sparkle in the light from the window and his heart stopped. She marched back to her gift in the kitchen and then stood before it, staring at it critically with her hands on her hips.

“Honestly, I haven’t cooked one of these since college, and I may have been half baked when I did it back then…. so, there’s the possibility that this will be _dry_ …”

She glanced up at him and shrugged, then she smiled and gave him a questioning look. “What are you doing? Close the door, unless you want to invite the neighbours over for some dry turkey as well…”

Reid shook his head and closed the door. Then he took a few steps into the apartment before catching her attention again. She was buzzing around his kitchen, rooting through drawers for who knows what. She mumbled something about a ladle. The more she moved, the more anxious he became. Great - she’d moved on, but he wasn’t there yet.

“Emily, what are you doing here?” he asked again more forcefully. His tone brought her eyes back to him and her smile looked more hesitant.

“I told you: I’m feeding you.”

“Listen… that’s very considerate and all, but… it’s completely unnecessary.” His throat was closing up, his eyes felt hot and tight. _Leave me alone. Just stop…_

“Who cares if it’s necessary? I wanted to do it. I know you don’t go anywhere on Christmas…”

“Maybe I didn’t want any company today.” _Don’t do this to me… just STOP…_

“Nonsense. No one wants to be alone over a holiday.”

“Please don’t pity me!” he yelled suddenly and then blushed as his voice echoed through his apartment. It was shocking that she could make him lose it so quickly. She went very still and carefully watched him. Then she walked towards him out of the kitchen with a determination that was usually reserved for hunting down perps.

“Now listen here,” she said roughly as she came to stand in front of him. 

She stared him down for a minute and then took a half step forward. She hesitated, seeming very unsure of herself, and then she grabbed him by the sweater and pulled him to her. Their lips met awkwardly and Reid went stiff and unyielding in her grip, eyes open in shock watching her resolve as she tried to work through something that was all dryness and teeth. This was worse than pity, he thought, this is whatever lay beyond it; she’d skipped pity entirely. He wondered if she really thought she was being kind to him… Then she pulled away looking a little defeated. Her hand curled tighter into his sweater and gave him a small shake.

“Jesus, Reid… it’s not goddamned pity, you know…”

“Then what is this?” he growled.

“It’s… I dunno… it’s _trying_ , I guess.” She dropped her eyes but he could’ve sworn that she seemed embarrassed for a moment. That made no sense to him at all. “You sure make it hard on a girl though…”

“Trying?” he wheezed in disbelief, eyebrows rising.

“Yeah, trying.”

She looked back up and then leaned in again before he had a chance to object. He felt her lips brush his, just skimming over the surface and warming him with breath. Then he moved his lips under hers, forming a soundless ‘why’ that she answered with a quick lick across his lower lip.

“Because anyone who would put someone else before their own desires _for years_ ,” she breathed against his mouth, eyes slipping closed. “Is worth paying attention to.”

She licked the crest of his lips again, just a quick pass, and he leaned into the heat of her pressing into his chest, across his cheek, along the line of his nose. He closed his eyes, breathing out shakily, and then dipped forward fractionally to catch the edge of her lip between his. He held it for a moment gently, and then he pushed further falling into the warm pressure of her mouth. Her lips parted, a tiny gasp igniting him in a way that felt wholly out of proportion, and he lapped it into him like water. Her lips curled - perhaps she was smiling or laughing at him? He had the impulse to pull away and check but her hands anchored him close, her mouth moving against him: _don’t you dare_ , it mimed. 

He lost control then. He pushed into her, determined and urgent, pressing his tongue to hers, moving as she moved, losing himself in the sweet oblivion of listening to them sigh and slip together. His hands found their way to her neck cupping her on either side just below her jaw. Tension vivified his body making him tall and sharp like a blade, excitement thrummed from him to her through his fingertips and the give and pull of their lips. All he wanted was for it to go on, to get lost in it for days, but he was getting light-headed and his heart was bursting in his throat so he pulled back breathing hard and brushing their noses. His hands still held her to him and he was pretty sure that he couldn’t tell them to let go. She blinked up at him, all flushed cheeks and bruised lips, and then she broke out into a dazed smile.

“Wow,” she gulped, chest moving against his as she tried to catch her breath too. “ _Reid_ …”

“Would you mind calling me Spencer? What with the kissing and everything…”

She laughed gently and then hid her face in his neck. His hands moved to circle around her shoulders pulling her in as far as he could manage.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “We’ve only known each other one way for a long time. I’m just happy you said ‘yes’.”

“So, have I made my point then, Spencer?” She traced her lips up along his throat until she met his mouth again. She hovered in front of them, waiting on his answer with a confident smile. “This isn’t pity.”

“I’ll probably need more convincing,” he breathed back, but couldn’t hide a smile of his own.

“You’re one tough customer,” she said before sinking into his mouth again with a whimper that went straight to his stomach and flipped it. 

They got lost in it again for a time. Her hands slipped up his chest and buried themselves in his hair, slowly circling up to cup the back of his head. One of his hands dropped and wrapped around her waist, cinching her close with an excited gasp that released a swell of pride in him. He was just making this up as he went and he felt more than a little delirious that she was making it easy for him. He wasn’t sure when he’d earned that from her, or why it was working. He told himself not to worry about it for now. Just enjoy the warmth of her against him like some sort of Christmas miracle after seven long years.

She pulled back eventually and gave him a serious look. “Now will you let me thank you for my forever blackbird?”

“Forever blackbird?” He thought it looked more like a swallow but what did he know. He knew that she’d gotten a blackbird tattoo to cover the branding scar Doyle left on her, and that she identified strongly with the image.

“Yeah. It was Grandmother’s, then Mom’s, and finally mine. Then it was lost and you brought it back to me. It’s an immortal little bird.”

“It’s not the same bird,” he leaned into her forehead with a smile.

“Quit being so literal. It ruins a perfectly good story.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“You… you don’t find it creepy?” Curse the memory of Peggy Marlowe. “You know, that I knew it well enough to recreate it almost exactly, or that I held onto it for so long…”

“Listen,” she said gently and tapped a finger to the base of his throat. “I’m not saying that it’s not weird, or that you weren’t twitchy about it. What I’m saying is that I _understand_ the reasons why you were weird and twitchy, and they don’t bother me. I know who you are, Spencer, and I know the last thing you are is creepy.”

He breathed a long wavering breath but couldn’t say anything. _How did I earn this from you?_

“The gift means a lot. It’s the reason why I risked trying today.”

That quietly blew his mind.

“On the downside,” she continued. “It’s so perfect that you’ll probably never top it, so you’ve really shot yourself in the foot with this one.”

“That’s just great.” He rolled his eyes as she laughed and then drew her in for another lingering, breathless kiss. He wondered how long they could do this before they’d be forced to do something else like sleeping, eating, or going to work. He hoped that Emily might be up for a marathon experiment…

“Hey, let’s figure out if I overcooked the turkey or not,” she said when they separated to catch their breath again. Reid made a face.

“And if it’s dry?”

Emily shrugged. “We sit on the couch and make out until Chinese food arrives.”

“Hmmm, I’m in favor of plan B…” he kissed into her neck.

“Stop it.” She pinched him. “I cooked for you.”

“Okay.” He regretfully let her go and prayed that the turkey was exactly like the one from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

They moved around his tiny kitchen like they’d done it forever. She brushed against him here, touched his arm there, and slowly built him into a state of suspended anticipation. The meal looked fine but he doubted that he could focus long enough to eat it. By the way she was looking at him when she thought he was concentrating, or the slow way she licked her finger after testing the gravy, he was pretty sure that making out on the couch was going to happen anyway regardless of turkey results. He couldn’t imagine a better Christmas, and he had a highly creative imagination.

He turned off Handel and his phone, and enjoyed watching Emily’s hands as she served up dinner. He watched her smile as she told him stories from college, he laughed when she laughed at his own misbegotten holiday tales, and he felt a molten rush of _something_ when her fingers absently brushed the bird at her throat. They ate and talked and slowly inched closer to each other as they sat on his couch. By the time the district snowplows came out and the weather reports were advising of road closures, they were wrapped around each other again and he wasn’t worried about how she was going to get home. There’d be plenty to freak out about in the morning, he knew, but in that moment he was just happy with the gift Emily had given him. That, and that his blackbird had come back to him.


End file.
